I’m lying in a white puffy bed, courtesy (well, not really a courtesy, we paid for it) of the Flagstaff Arizona La Quinta Inn. We abandoned our usual hobo tendencies of sleeping in a vehicle, tent or on stranger’s floor or futon and decided to spring for the lap of La Quinta luxury. Monday night football is on, and Andy is seriously pouring over his laptop while simultaneously watching the game. We’re on our way to Oklahoma City and possibly Tulsa for Project (the last part is secret but don’t worry it’s legal) forthwith referred to as “Project X”. Sounds mysterious right?

We left San Diego on Saturday to get back to Vegas with just enough daylight to pull everything out of the Honda, a few more things out of the RV, and successfully organize our lives into the big gray storage clam on top of the Element. Only a few items needed to be stowed in the actual car. We’re not sure how long we’ll be traveling, but the car is packed for six months.

Sunday was the playoffs of Andy’s hockey team, The Army of Darkness. He’s been playing with them for four years. They almost always make it to the playoffs, and have never won it all. Most of the wives and girlfriends sitting on the bench with me felt pretty much the same about it. They really wanted their men to win, but if they did, there was a three hour gap between games, and no one really wanted to hang out it a manly, smelly hockey rink for that long.

They didn’t win, but put forth a valiant effort.

Before I tell you the next part of the story, I have to give you a little history about my sleep patterns. Once in a while, I will sit up in the middle of the night and say something that makes no sense but am fully committed to. Here’s a classic example that we still laugh about:

Cindigo (sits up in bed): Fish Refuge.
Andy: What?
Cindigo: Fish. Refuge.
Andy: I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?
Cindigo (sighs heavily and says in a tone that implies that Andy is dumb…) Fish! Refuge!
Andy: Are you sleeping?
Cindigo: No.
Andy: Really?
Cindigo (very long pause while realizing I had been sleeping): Maybe.

So keep this background in mind when I tell you that while sleeping in the RV in the middle of the night, I sat straight up in bed and said, “there’s a cat in the bed”. Andy, knowing my history woke up and with a placating humorous tone in his voice said, “Really? There’s a cat in the bed.” I replied, “Yes, there’s a cat in the bed. Look!”. He woke fully up and saw, that indeed, there was a strange cat in our bed.

He was tame but a little skittish. When we were trying to process this middle of the night information, he freaked out a little and ran to the front of the RV. Andy opened the doors and thought he left. We went back to bed. Apparently later in the night, he was back in our bed trying to get out of the window. I slept through it, possibly in part due to the vodka and sodas I had at the bar celebrating the end of the hockey season with Andy and the team. Andy opened the back window and he scampered out for good.

We we’re glad on so many levels that a cat didn’t get trapped in our RV for six months. Can you even imagine coming back to the carnage? Dead cat? Poop and pee of former cat? The sadness of a cat trapped in our RV starving to death.

Tomorrow, we’re going for a hike in the morning and then driving five or so hours closer to our destination.